


Lollipops

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto do the lollipop blog challenge.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	Lollipops

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“So you get the rules, right?” he double checks, bent over the pulled-out coffee table to set the camera up. Prompto should probably be the one to do that, but he’s busy reading the list of flavours off the box of variety popsicles. Noctis realizes that too late. By the time he’s spun around and snatched it out of Prompto’s hands, they’ve likely been memorized. “Hey, no cheating!”

“S’not cheating—just wanna know what my options are!” Prompto grabs for the box again, but Noctis keeps it firmly out of reach, climbing over Prompto’s outstretched legs to the other side of the couch, where he settles in and scans the list himself. They may as well at least be on even footing. As soon as he does it, he’s glad he did, because he probably never would’ve guessed ‘birthday cake’ on his own—it’s good to know that’s in there. He can see Prompto checking the camera in his peripherals, which is fine, because Prompto will be the one to edit and post the video anyway. The Six know Noctis can’t have his own online accounts. Shiva forbid the people see their prince actually _blogging_ like a normal twenty-year-old. 

When he’s finished, he pops the box open. He glances sideways before he pulls one out, and Prompto looks back at him, bright and sunny with both big blue eyes wide open. Noctis elbows his side. 

“Oof, what?”

“ _Eyes_.”

“Huh?”

Noctis rolls his. He should’ve known Prompto wasn’t listening to him earlier, and Prompto certainly wasn’t listening last night when Noctis first brought up the idea—but to be fair, Noctis was balls-deep at that point. Still, Prompto had moaned, _“Sure,”_ and nodded and rolled up into Noctis like he’d do absolutely _anything_ Noctis asked. Noctis had rewarded him with a fervent kiss and promised against the shell of his ear that he’d have so much _fun_.

“That’d be a ‘no’ to the rules, then. You gotta cover your eyes. Then I lick the popsicle and kiss you, and you have to guess the flavour.”

“Right.” Prompto dips his head in understanding—it’s an easy enough concept. And he’s probably seen the ‘couple challenge’ circulating the internet lately too. “What do I get if I win?”

Noctis hadn’t actually thought that far. But he’s always down for stakes. Especially in things where he knows he’ll win. He knows all of Prompto’s weaknesses, both mentally and physically, and he’s confident he can distract Prompto away from any proper analysis if he just licks Prompto out right. But the camera’s already rolling and he didn’t come prepared, so he cops out with an easy, “My undying love?”

Prompto snorts and teases, “I thought I already had that!” But he still looks delighted—he always gets all flushed and bubbly when Noctis professes his love. 

“Alright, then how about a punishment if you lose?” He winks, and Prompto’s blush deepens. Noctis doesn’t get more specific than that, because the camera’s on and there’s a good chance Ignis will see this and murder them, the level of pain involved directly related to how explicit they are. Of course the challenge will have to be a _tad_ overt, but Noctis figures he can still keep it relatively chaste enough to survive the fallout. 

Beside, he wouldn’t mind having footage of Prompto eagerly licking his lips. If anyone asks, they can blame the internet at large. It’s just the same typical nonsense all ‘the kids’ are doing. Prompto already looks more hot and bothered than he should for one of their tame vlogs, but he mumbles, “Okay,” and shuts his eyes.

“No peeking.”

Prompto hums agreement. Noctis can’t help leaning over to peck his cheek—just something short and sweet to kick them off. They’re sitting more than close enough for it, Noctis’ folded legs brushing Prompto’s knee, his arm bumping Prompto’s shoulder. It helps that the summer heat’s put Prompto in gym shorts and a tank top—plenty of skin for Noctis to _touch_. But the fair weather also means he’ll have to get going before their food melts, rather than spending all day ogling his cute boyfriend. Not that he could get away with that anyway. Ignis will probably break down his door in a few hours to drag him off to the Citadel, and then Gladiolus will hunt him down for training, Prompto will flitter off to his part time job, and Noctis will get home late and curl up in bed with this new video of Prompto being especially cute. 

Prompto’s always cute. Noctis can’t take his eyes off Prompto’s innocent face as he peels open the wrapper on the first popsicle. He can tell from the colour that it’s blueberry, but when he’s actually got it against his lip, it just sort of tastes like generic chemical fruitiness. They probably should’ve gone organic and _real_ for this, but it’s too late. Noctis pops the treat into his mouth and pistons it in and out a few times, barely even enjoying the sugar because he’s so busy looking forward to the aftermath. 

When he pulls it out, he announces, “Ready,” and Prompto sits up straighter but still stays there. Noctis adds, “You can kiss me now.”

Prompto turns vaguely towards him and noses at the air before asking, “Where are you?”

It’s so hard not to laugh. Noctis knows he’s grinning like an idiot. Prompto often does that to him. He loops his free hand under Prompto’s chin, resisting the urge to stroke Prompto’s cheek, and gently draws his boyfriend forward. He presses their lips together in a tabloid-friendly kiss, closed-mouthed, which works for the first few seconds. Except when Prompto pulls away and smacks his lips, he mutters, “Can’t taste anything.”

“You can have one more.” 

Prompto leans in, ready, and this time Noctis moves in to meet Prompto, except as soon as they’re touching, Prompto opens up and licks across Noctis’ bottom lip. It takes all Noctis’ effort to keep his mouth closed. Prompto swipes across his entire mouth, messy and silly but wonderful. When he pulls back, Noctis is grinning even wider. 

Prompto licks his lips, an action Noctis focuses right in on, and insists, “Nah, nothing. One more?”

Noctis lets out an overdramatic sigh—the sort of noise Ignis makes when Noctis admits he hasn’t done his council reports yet or didn’t make his bed or can’t figure out how to work his own dishwasher. He gives Prompto another kiss, which has Prompto begging, “I don’t know! Gimme another—”

Noctis licks the popsicle several times before full-on kissing it, trying to get his lips coated in the glistening blue ice, before he tilts sideways and takes Prompto in for a _proper_ kiss. He tells himself it’s for the sake of the video; no one will watch if they can’t even guess one flavour, and they can’t just have ten minutes of making out on film; they’re tying to get _content_. But Prompto’s tongue sliding into his mouth makes him almost forget to hold onto the popsicle—he’s tempted to thread his fingers through Prompto’s hair instead. Prompto eagerly licks him out, lapping at every nook and cranny of his mouth, before pulling away just enough to murmur, “Deeper?”

Noctis kisses him deeper—ridiculously deep—tongue practically against the back of his throat, faces so close that Prompto’s nose is digging into his cheek and Prompto’s blond bangs are tickling his forehead. They part. “Longer?”

Noctis can’t stop smiling. He can’t tell if Prompto’s doing it on purpose—pretending to suck so Noctis will kiss him more—or if the game’s really just impossible. He makes the executive decision to give up and announces, “Blueberry. Point one, Noct.”

Prompto opens his eyes, pouting, but still managing to look adorable. His lips are wet and shimmering from Noctis’ spit—they’re probably going to get _at least_ a thousand new subs on this one. 

Noctis takes a final, useless lick of his popsicle before dumping it in the bowl beside the camera. It’s a waste of food, but it’d be worse to actually eat the whole box. Shutting his eyes and settling back against the cushions, Noctis says, “Now you do me.” And then he realizes what that sounds like and adds, “Your turn,” which he’ll ask Prompto to edit over the first one later. Prompto probably will on his own. He’s very respectful with his editing, probably because he’s hyper aware that one wrong move will bring the council down on his head. Noctis would fight them off, of course, but it’d still be a pain in the ass to have to sit through another ‘crown propriety’ lecture. He can hear the cellophane crinkling as Prompto fetches a new stick. 

Prompto doesn’t just _lick_ the popsicle. All Noctis can see is darkness, but he can _hear_ Prompto sucking on something, interspersed with a wet pop here and there. It takes a few conspicuous seconds before a finger’s under his chin, and Prompto’s nose nudges his. That makes it easy enough to find Prompto’s mouth. He tilts for a quick peck that tells him absolutely nothing aside from that Prompto’s lips are just as soft and kissable as always.

He tries another. Then another. He can’t taste anything in particular either and gives in to sucking Prompto’s lips, which leads to Prompto’s tongue finding his, and he can definitely taste _sugar_ but doesn’t know what else. Prompto breaks the kiss before he’s ready. 

The sucking noises come again, louder, more vivid, right close to where Noctis is, and he can perfectly picture it—Prompto opening wide and pushing the thick, stiff popsicle between his plush lips, rubbing it hard against his tongue. Noctis’ breath catches. Prompto guides him into a ridiculously wide kiss full of teeth and tongue and gooey sweetness that Noctis greedily chases. He actually whines when Prompto leaves him.

He hears the telltale sign of Prompto’s gag reflex kicking and realizes that Prompto’s _deep-throating_ the popsicle. Prompto seems to manage fine and hums around its girth, as though to promise he’s okay—the same way he does when he’s choking on Noctis’ cock and Noctis is just about to pull out to protect him. Noctis really does _try_ to stay focused. He tries to tell himself there’s no way he’ll lose now, because Prompto’s entire mouth has to be covered in the popsicle’s sticky juice, and all Noctis has to do is lick it up. The kiss he gets afterwards is easily the filthiest kiss Noctis has ever had. It’s at least half his fault. He can’t stop picturing Prompto sucking on the popsicle, so he sucks on Prompto’s tongue, and he lets one arm drape around Prompto’s shoulders and draw Prompto closer—let his fingers run up to tangle in Prompto’s hair, and he kisses Prompto with everything he has. 

It’s not until Prompto bites his bottom lip that he remember he’s supposed to be guessing a flavour and not just devouring his boyfriend whole. He wonders if it’d be easier to smear the popsicle across Prompto’s whole face and lick it off bare skin. Maybe down Prompto’s throat. Maybe he should push Prompto down onto the couch, place the popsicle between his pecs, and wait for it to melt across his taut chest. Then Noctis could lick it off his nipples. Prompto’s moaning against him, one leg shifting over his lap. He hears something rattle—maybe the popsicle dropping into the bowl. He opens his eyes to check, remembering too late that that’s cheating. 

The popsicle’s red. He mumbles around Prompto’s mouth, “Cherry?”

Prompto keeps kissing him but manages to answer, “No cherry flavour...”

Right. It’s probably strawberry then. He’s about to say that, except suddenly he has a lap full of boyfriend and that gorgeous hottie is rutting against him, almost as hard as he is. Prompto tells him between kisses, “Strawberry.”

He could’ve at least gotten that point. Except he cheated. And Ignis is going to kill him. He can see the red button flashing over Prompto’s shoulder, indicating that the camera’s still recording. They can’t post this. 

Prompto seems to catch on to his moment of hesitation. Prompto pauses too, glances back, and sheepishly asks, “Could we try the popsicle thing another time maybe?”

There’s no point. They won’t be any better next time. They’ll just wind up making out like animals, because Prompto’s the hottest thing in Insomnia and he’s one hundred percent royal property. 

With one hand around Prompto’s waist to secure him, Noctis reaches over and turns the camera off. He announces, “Stalemate.”

Prompto asks, “Can I have my prize anyway?”

Noctis has a feeling what he wants that prize to be. Grinning, Noctis nods, and so Prompto proceeds to blow him better than the popsicle, earning pure Noctis-flavour.


End file.
